Brought Here to Do
by eclecticxdetour
Summary: Written for Dartales WINCEST of the SamDean Persuasion Rated M for Violence and Language SUMMARY: Sam gets gay-bashed after his soccer game. Dean kicks ass and takes names before taking care of his baby brother.


Dean knew their dad didn't approve of Sam's soccer playing. He didn't know why, though. Sam was fast as hell on the field and Sam sure liked soccer practice better than training and sparring. He didn't see the harm in Sam playing soccer; it let his little brother get all his frustrations out and get in some hunter training without it explicitly being for hunting. So when he got home after practice or a game all his teenage angst was pretty much absent and he was a lot more agreeable.

He was at one of Sam's games then; leaning against the bleachers and watching his brother dribble the ball around an opposing team member. Dean smirked, his little brother was _good_. He had to admit, soccer wasn't really his thing but watching Sam? He had to kind of love the sport.

Sam's hair was pretty much a bird's nest when he played, sticking up in every direction, wildly tangled from the wind, matted down with his sweat. He liked the way Sam would flick his hair out of his face when it got in his eyes, enamored with the way sweat would flick from the ends.

"Thatta boy, Sammy," he said quietly, giving Sam a soft smile and a wink when his little brother looked to him after Sam scored a goal. He laughed when Sam blushed and rushed off, getting back into the game.

He cheered with the rest of the fans when Sam's team won, kid that scored the winning goal pulling off his jersey and sliding across the grass. He pulled Sam into a tight hug when Sam ran over to him afterward, inhaling the scent of Sam's sweat and musk.

"You were great, baby boy," said Dean honestly, smiling against the slickness of Sammy's neck. He teasingly flicked his tongue over the cord of muscle, chuckling when Sam moaned quietly and sagged against him.

"I did good," laughed Sam, never one for modesty when it came to his soccer playing.

"You ready to get out of here?" husked Dean, arms going around Sam's waist so he could palm Sam's ass and bring their hips together.

Sam chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at his teammates. "Lemme go say goodbye?"

"Go on," laughed Dean, sending Sam off with a smack to his firm little ass, shaking his head as Sammy ran back toward his teammates. He watched as Sam's friends and teammates slapped congratulatory smacks to Sam's back and shoulder blades. He grinned at Sam and shook his head again, turning to walk to the car, glad the rest of the team's parents and friends had already left.

"Dean, wait up!" laughed Sam, jogging toward his brother one moment, face pushed into the grass in the next.

Dean turned back to Sam when his brother called for him, eyes going wide and furious when he saw three opposing team members circled around his baby boy. "Sam!" he growled, running for all he was worth toward his little brother, eyes narrowing when one of the boys tugged at Sam so they were in the shadows of a couple of trees.

"Mother_fuckers_," he hissed, voice vicious.

"Saw that older guy kissin' on you, you fuckin' queer. Not so tough without him are you, you pussy? You take it up the ass for him, do you? Bet you do. Take it and fuckin' _love _it," growled one of the boys, aiming a few kicks at Sam's ribs.

Dean watched in horror as he came upon the scene. "You fuckin' _cowards_," he yelled, tugging at the boy doing the most damage to his little brother. He pulled the kid around and popped him in the face, heart pounding victoriously in his chest when the kid moaned in pain and dropped to the ground.

He eyed another of the boys and grabbed the kid's shoulders, kneeing the asshole in the balls, watching in pleasure as the boy cried out and fell, too. He saw red when the last kid had the fuckin' _audacity_ to straddle Sam where he lay prone on the ground and take a swing at his little brother's face.

"Think you're hot shit, don't you Winchester? Not so hard when you're all alone are you, you faggot?" spat the kid, punching Sam in the nose and humming when blood flew from Sam's face.

"Get your _fuckin'_ hands off of him you fuckin' heartless prick," yelled Dean, tackling the kid off of his Sammy and slamming the kid into the ground. "You touch him again and you're gonna fuckin' _wish _I'd killed you today," he growled, punching the kid in the jaw before grabbing the kid's shoulders and slamming him into the hard dirt, smirking wickedly when one of the kid's shoulders smacked against a tree root.

"_Dean_," moaned Sam pitifully, managing to lift his head from the grass and focus his gaze on his big brother. He saw a flash of red on his brother's knuckles and knew he had to do something before his brother seriously hurt one of the kids. "You gotta," he gasped when he sat up, ribs terribly bruised from when Stackhouse had kicked him. "Dean, you gotta stop."

Dean froze when he heard Sam's pained voice, couldn't believe that Sam was trying to speak when he was so beat up. He narrowed his eyes at the kid pinned beneath him and with one last punch to the kid's throat and a lasting threat he rushed over to his little brother. He dropped to his knees next to Sam, hands hovering over Sam's bruised and dirtied body.

He was glad to see there wasn't any blood covering Sam's slack body except along the slope of his nose, but he knew that there could have been internal damage. He hoped he got to his little brother before that could have happened, though. "Sam. Sammy, _hey_," said Dean quietly, thumb rubbing over Sam's nose, slipping his hand underneath Sam's skull and feeling for any lumps.

"_Dean_," groaned Sam, curling his arms around Dean's neck so he could pull himself into a sitting position.

"Hey, _hey_," said Dean, "don't strain yourself, baby boy. You gotta take it easy." He ran both his hands over Sam's back and his baby brother's ribs. He carefully pressed against Sam's flanks, hissing in sympathy when a small whimper fell from Sam's mouth at the attention.

"_Dean_, I need--"

"I know, Sam, let's go, baby," answered Dean quietly, leaning down and scooping Sam up. He narrowed his eyes at the assholes that hurt his little brother. "That's right," he growled, watching as the two kids who'd suffered less pain helped Stackhouse up and carried him toward their car.

"You better fuckin' run!" he shouted, shifting Sam in his arms. "You touch Sam again you better have a fuckin' death wish you dickheads!"

"_Please_," moaned Sam, clutching at Dean's over-shirt, fingers fisting in the worn material.

"Okay, Sammy, shit. I'mma get you to the car, baby."

Sam nodded pitifully and clutched hard at his brother, burying his face in Dean's chest.

"_Fuck_," swore Dean, quickening his strides, only slowing when he got to the Impala. "I'm gonna put you in the back, Sammy. Don't need you crampin' yourself up anymore than is necessary."

Sam nodded as Dean lowered him into the backseat. He felt like complete and utter shit; wanted to curl up into the fetal position in the dark for a few hours just to get some peace from the throbbing in his skull.

He wasn't unaccustomed to pain when playing soccer; familiar with getting side-tackled, dead legged, and piled-on; even when he sparred with Dean he was used to the slight ache after a good session. But being deliberately targeted and _hurt_ by _people_? It was worse than repeatedly getting thrown around by mindless supernatural creatures.

He whimpered pitifully when the sunlight caught his open eyes, throbbing in his skull intensifying when he squeezed his eyes shut. "_Hurry_," he moaned, knew that Dean had left the first-aid kit back at their place in case their dad came home hurt.

"Goin' as fast as I can, Sammy. Hang on for me, okay? You don't feel nauseous or confused, do you?" asked Dean worriedly; should have checked for signs of a concussion when he'd first checked on his little brother. "Where are we, Sam?"

"Ohio," moaned Sam, "Reynoldsburg."

"Good, Sammy, very good," sighed Dean. "You're not feelin' dizzy are you? Got a headache?"

"Headache," said Sam quietly, "no dizziness, though."

Dean smiled, glad that there wasn't any kind of slur to Sam's words. "Alright, take it easy, Sam. Gonna get you home and pump ya' with some painkillers alright? Just close your eyes and relax, okay, baby?"

Sam just nodded and relaxed against the bench seat, clutching at his midsection as he let himself doze.

Dean sighed when he pulled up to their place. He glanced at Sammy in the backseat and was hesitant to wake Sam up. He knew he had to tend to Sam's injuries though; figured Sam would be more comfortable in their bed instead of the bench seat, anyway.

He turned off the Impala and carefully climbed out trying not to disturb Sam from the little sleep his baby brother got from dozing. He slowly opened the back door, gathering Sam up in his arms as gently as he could.

"Home?" asked Sam, barely opening his eyes to ask.

"Yeah, Sammy. M'gonna set you up in our room, okay?"

Sam sighed and nodded, clinging to his big brother as Dean tenderly carried him into the house. He'd been hurt worse before but he took comfort in the fact that Dean was taking such good care of him now. He figured the reason behind Dean's tending to him so gently now was because Dean thought it was his fault. That he got beat up because the bigoted assholes from the other team didn't like the fact that he was gay; that Dean had been kissing on him after his team had won.

He groaned when Dean set him down on their bed, back stiff from when he'd landed on the ground.

"Shit, you alright?"

"Will be," answered Sam quietly, looking up at Dean. "Pain killers?"

"Oh, yeah. Think you can get your jersey off for me?" asked Dean tentatively, stepping closer to Sam when his little brother made no move to remove his clothes.

Sam let out a shaky breath and said, "Think I can handle it."

"Okay," replied Dean, pressing a soft kiss to Sam's forehead, "be right back."

He hurried to the bathroom for the first aid kid, quickly going back to his brother. Dean frowned when he noticed his brother lying on his back and panting. "Fuck, are you okay?"

"Just exerted myself too much," huffed Sam, letting out another shuddering breath when Dean sat next to him on their bed.

"Sit up for a minute?"

Sam nodded and managed to sit up just long enough for Dean to pop some painkillers into his mouth and swallow down some water. He lied back when Dean gestured for him to.

"Your ribs are pretty bruised, baby," said Dean quietly, fingers hovering over Sam's sides. He carefully pressed his fingertips against Sam's ribs. "Don't feel broken, do they?" he asked, gently running his fingers along each rib.

"_No_," gasped Sam, shivering from the feel of Dean's fingertips teasing along his sides.

"Only thing I can do is put some ointment on your sides to keep the bruising down, Sammy…"

"S'okay. Painkillers are kickin' in a'ready."

"Sounds like it," chuckled Dean, feeling over the rest of Sam's body, making sure Sam wasn't banged up badly anywhere else. "Head alright?" he asked, cupping Sam's skull again, double-checking that there weren't any lumps on his baby brother's noggin.

"Don't feel like it."

"You gon' fall asleep, sweetheart?"

Sam sighed and tipped his head toward Dean's heat, shifting until he was pressed all along Dean's thigh. "_Yeah_," he said quietly, hand finding the hard muscle of Dean's leg and curling around it.

Dean pushed Sam's hair away from his little brother's face, combing his fingers through the tangled strands, unknotting it while Sammy slept. He rubbed his thumb over Sam's dirtied cheek, frowning when his thumb came away dirty and a little bloody; only then remembering Sam's nose. "Damn, baby brother."

He walked to the bathroom so he could grab a towel to clean Sam up with, didn't want Sam to wake up with dried sweat coating his whole body. He carefully wiped down Sam's face when he went back into their room, smoothing the wet washcloth over Sam's forehead, down the slightly crooked slope of Sam's nose. He grimaced as he wiped the blood from Sam's face, hated those soccer player's more when he found out Sam's nose was more than bruised.

He finished cleaning Sam's face before moving on to his neck, wiping down the length and further down to his little brother's chest. He was careful not to wipe the ointment from Sam's skin, tossing the rag on the floor when he was done cleaning down Sam.

He carefully rubbed his fingers over Sam's nose, sighing in relief when he found it wasn't broken. There was a pretty large gash down the side of it, though, probably from Stackhouse's stupid fuckin' ring.

"So sorry, Sammy," he said quietly, lying down next to Sam and pressing his hand over Sam's thumping heart. "If I wasn't there this wouldn't'a happened to you, baby boy. I'm no good for you."

His brows rose into his hairline when Sam stirred next to him, baby brother's eyes opening and catching his own.

"Not your fault," said Sam, voice rough.

"Sammy, I--"

"Love you, big brother. Don' care what anyone thinks. You take care of me."

Dean caught his lip between his teeth, couldn't see how he was takin' care of his little brother by getting Sam's ass kicked because of something he did. "How can you say that? You got beat up because I kissed you, Sammy. Put my fuckin' hands and mouth on you in front of people. I got a second of pleasure and you got fuckin' pummeled."

"M'gonna be fine, De," replied Sam, turning onto his side and curling his fingers around Dean's side. He offered Dean a half-smile and leant in, pressing his mouth against the corner of Dean's pretty lips. "I love you and nobody's gonna take that from us, 'kay?"

Dean swallowed and pet Sam's back when Sammy pressed his forehead to his collarbone. He pressed his mouth to Sam's neck, gently suckling at the skin until Sam keened against his chest. "Love you, little brother," he breathed, fingers playing with Sam's hair as Sam relaxed against him.

"We're good for each other, big brother," answered Sam with a sigh, rubbing his forehead back and forth against Dean's chest.

The way Sam curled closer to him after that made Dean believe they were _great_ for each other.


End file.
